


holocene

by wrtchedwolf



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, F/M, brief mention of foggy and matt, frank realizes he’s in love with karen, he doesn’t know how to tell her, she’s kind of oblivious to it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-08 15:59:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12868032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrtchedwolf/pseuds/wrtchedwolf
Summary: karen knows that frank has never lied to her, but he's been lying to her the whole goddamned time and he doesn't know how to tell her.(post-season 1 of the punisher)





	1. saying nothing, that’s enough for me

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy, friends! i’ve been dying to write about kastle for the last two weeks

frank knew, ever since she strode up to him in his hospital bed and shoving a picture of his murdered family in his face, that there was something more to what he felt for karen page.

she was... brilliant. warm. light. she was not wholly good nor wholly bad, but the perfect balance of both. there was a dark, dangerous side to her he had seen when she worked his case. she was a fighter, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed fighter who believed there was good in everyone. to her, that included frank castle. he believed himself wholly bad, far past the destroyer of worlds. he destroyed everything in his path with pure and harsh recklessness and he lived in nothing but pain and shadows. frank castle was nothing but a dead man walking around with a shattered soul, but she saw through that. she was the only one.

karen saw him not just as the punisher but as a person. a husband, a father, a brother to his squad, a vigilante who sought out to mete his own justice to everyone involved in the killing of his family because he didn't believe in the system. it was fucked, and he would never get the justice he deserved. they deserved to suffer at his hands for every single night he was haunted by the deaths of the three people he loved most. he was a murderer, but he had a good heart, no matter how bad his intentions got. the people he killed, they both knew they deserved it. he was cold-hearted, but he was kind. gentle. caring; he cared with such an intensity it sometimes threw her off of her feet. he had no words for it, those feelings, because it exceeded the strongest of them all. love.

 _this woman is a wonder_ , he thought to himself as his eyes followed her walking down to the river and taking a seat upon the bench; their bench. she didn't need to set flowers on her windowsill as a signal for him to come to her anymore because he was now a free man. he no longer had to hide in the shadows, he had a little home of his own and a cell phone she could contact him on. all she had to do was send a text, and he would immediately drop everything to be there.

he didn't know how to tell her, didn't even know where to begin. words had never been his strong suit, especially in recent times. he preferred silence over all, finding comfort in the absence of noise. he never said something to her unless he meant it with every part of him, never deceived or betrayed or lied to her about anything.

except for one thing.

 _"i will come for you,"_ he'd told her as she was dragged away by lewis wilson, a former marine who had strapped a bomb to himself at a hotel where he tried to kill the senator as an act of some kind of rebellion. he believed that the only way of getting people to listen to him was through violence, and so he tried to take the one person who was most important to him, the woman he would fight for, over and over and over. he would never let anyone take her, not on his watch.

and so he didn't.

he gazed at her pretty blonde hair flowing with the river's breeze, remembering the way he wanted to comb his fingers through the soft strands that night so long ago, in the exact place.

 _"so where does that end, frank?"_ her voice was lost to everyone's ears but his own. _"because i look at you and.. my heart breaks, because all i can see is this endless, echoing–loneliness."_

_"i'm not lonely karen," he denied._

_"bullshit, we are all lonely," she shot back with that same fire she'd always had. "i sometimes think that that is all that life is, we're just—we're just fighting not to be alone."_

he remembered her words after he asked her what to do, if he should just let it go.

"no," she cried with exasperation, "but i want there to be an after. for you."

karen's voice died away as he approached her, hands in the pocket of his usual black hoodie. it was cold by the riverside for an august night, to which he was thankful, because when she looked at him he wanted to squirm under her gaze. he wanted to keep her from looking at all of the damaged, broken, bitter parts of him. he didn't want her to see the shadows that haunted him, the blood that forever stained his hands, as if he'd forgotten she already had.

he sat down on the bench wordlessly, feeling the tension in his muscles ease with her warm presence although it felt like she was stripping him bare. there was no way he could meet the raw emotion he knew was swirling in her gaze.

it had been two weeks since they last made contact with one another, and all it had been was a text from him apologizing for bloodying up her apartment after he'd been injured by members of a small russian gang he'd discovered hidden in the depths of the city. they'd gotten a few good shots in, but he'd won in the end. all that he left of them were mangled limbs.

so that's why she was looking him like that, because he had a tendency to pop in and out of her life without any warning or reason, and he knew she had trouble with it. she needed constance, and he knew he needed to be one, but the thought of bringing her deeper into his world of endless danger and bloodshed never failed to scare him off.

"hey," he finally said in the softest voice he could muster up, reducing the sound to a light whisper.

"where have you been this time?" she asked curiously, matching the volume of his voice. she was looking at him still, but his eyes remained on the dark waters.

"hunting," frank said simply, digging his fingers into the fabric of his coat and hanging his head down until his eyes were on his shoes. "mostly i–i, uhm... mostly i've just been thinking."

karen shifted in her seat so her arms were wrapped around herself, and he wasn't sure whether it was because she was trying to hide within herself or she was cold or both. "about what?"

it wasn't an intrusion of a question, not anymore. they had reached a level of understanding that only the other knew, and they trusted each other. they never lied to each other.

his heart twisted.

"about my family," he swallowed like it wasn't a usual thing, "but mostly about this-this, whatever _this_ is... this _life_ that i have now that i don't know what to do with. i walk down the street and nobody notices me because everyone's forgotten who i am—who i was, at least, and i don't... i don't know what to do with this second shot. i want to be a better man, for them, for david and his family, for.."

he chokes on the words.

"for you."

he finally has the nerve to look at her, and when he does he sees the soft intensity in which showed him that she understood. they'd all thought he was a dead man walking, nobody thought that he'd be alive by the end of it all. yet, here he sat, face unmarred by bruises or broken flesh, though he still spotted bullet wounds. there was no stopping the punisher that still lived within, but he was slowly returning to some semblance of a normal life, or whatever normal was before war.

_"you have nothing but a war inside you."_

"do you believe you can achieve that?"

thinking about his answer, he pursed his lips. there was no right or wrong, there was only what he thought about it moving forward.

"i hope so," the gravel in his voice was thick. he shook his head. "you know i've—i've spent so long fighting wars that i don't know how to not fight one, but i don't want to fight anymore, i—"

he hated himself for choking up, for the way his eyes grew red with tears as she continued looking at him, as if she couldn't stop.

"i'm tired, karen," frank whispered, feeling the aching in his bones, the longing for a sleep that was peaceful and not filled with ghosts and memories that would forever haunt him. he didn't remember a sleep like that, where darkness wasn't present at every twist and turn.

he knew he wasn't the only one when she bit her lip, her eyes glazing over as she turned her head from him. the blonde was no longer in the present, but somewhere hidden in the past. karen page had not had an easy life; she'd been through hell and back several times. she was a survivor, that girl. she got through everything, and then she somehow managed to thrive. the darkness that swelled within her, she let it show but she never let it control her. it had no power over her, not like it had with him. she found a way to conquer those demons, even if she still woke up shaking from a violent nightmare full of blood and death that he had helped cause.

her mouth fumbled over her next words, figuring out how to say it the right way.

"have you ever been afraid when you're going up a hill, that when you get to the top, you'll find nothing at the bottom?" she asked, question metaphorical and guarded. if it hadn't been for that faraway look in her frosted, lake blue eyes, he might've thought she was asking merely out of curiosity. but she wasn't. there was pain and fear hidden in the tone of her voice.

"i've already been there, ma'am," he drifted in and out of his melancholy thoughts, shaking his head with a breathy exhale. "for me, there's nothing but destruction waiting at the bottom."

karen broke away from her thoughts, parting her lips as she stilled for just a moment, trying to collect herself. "but—don't you want there to be more, frank?"

she let it hang in the air, let him stew over the possibilities of what, exactly, the meaning was, didn't bother to clarify, either.

"i think about it constantly," she said with a calm voice, eyes boring into his, "what-what if i have already gotten to the top, what if this is the bottom what if—what if there's nothing _more_ nothing... better?"

frank's gaze softened, his heart melting for the woman in front of him, so strong but still so damaged. he couldn't fix her, didn't want to. he couldn't decide what to do with the broken parts of her soul, that was for her to decide.

with a slow voice, the sound of birds rustling through the trees and ships gliding across the dark waters, he told her, "there'll be another hill to climb, karen. don't be afraid to walk through the unknown."

the words he wanted to say died away on his tongue, so he left it at that.

and he knew, then, that his words were not only for her, but for him. he was the one so afraid of that unknown, so much that he believed he didn't deserve it. his family, he didn't deserve them. he let them down, he failed them, and he'd somehow gotten it into his head that he would let the angel of hell's kitchen down, too. he was the punisher, there was nowhere in his life where somebody would be safe.

but, he reminded himself, frank castle was a dead man. the _punisher_ was dead. nobody was after him now. maybe he was only deliberately hurting himself and, in the process, her, too?

karen's eyes glistened from tears she had shut down. the two of them were closer now than they were when he arrived, but it wasn't until she reached forward with a hesitant hand to place it softly on his stubbled cheek. the beating of his heart increased to an erratic thrum, so much so that he could feel it rising in his throat, as if his heart was a ticking time bomb set to explode. ever since the day at the carousel, he'd been afraid of touch. he felt like he was drowning when someone would touch him, replayed the memories of that day like it was happening all over again right in front of him. but that felt so long ago now. those living nightmares faded away under her touch, and he found himself craving more. he came undone as her fingertips brushed across the line of his jaw.

"are you afraid, frank?" she whispered.

he had to swallow before replying, voice begging to give out. "m'terrified."


	2. someway baby, it’s part of me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it’s been a while since their last talk, and they’re both feeling a little vulnerable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was so excited to write this part, i hope it’s not too ooc. i wanted it to portray their understanding and emotional complexity towards one another while also being little dummies for their poor romantic decisions

two weeks.

two weeks since her talk with frank, and the most she'd gotten was a text warning her to be careful.

karen page sat in her office at the bulletin, staring at the empty word document that had been opened for an hour already, waiting for words that wouldn't come.

she was writing a new piece, this time about daredevil and a gang of lowlife men who preyed on young girls. he'd caught them, but he'd hadn't killed them. in fact, he'd barely injured most of them. the worst of the injuries was a sprained ankle and fractured wrist. the man who'd saved her life once or twice had room for nothing but mercy in his catholic heart. the man she'd once loved.

matt had been mia from her life for as long as she could remember now. they'd lost contact with each other long before frank arrived at her door step again. not long ago, he'd been thought dead to the world. turns out, he was still up and kicking, defending hell's kitchen from whatever horrors lurked in the night. 

in some faint, twisted way, she missed him. not _him_ , not what they had, because they had never really been _like that_. he'd never trusted her enough for it to progress that far. sure, she had loved him, but they were friends before everything. she loved him in the way foggy loved him, the way she loved foggy. it was the time when they were all friends that she missed. nowadays, she was so caught up in work that she had so little time to herself, and when she did it was usually spent in front of her tv late at night.

the truth was, she had no friends. not anymore. she hadn't seen matt in ages, and foggy never called. he was working his way up to partner at some big shot firm upstate, and she couldn't blame him for that. he was progressing with his life, like she'd ought to be doing.

thinking about them made a dull ache rise within her, but it was better than thinking about the man who'd left her hanging for two weeks.

karen sighed, blinked away any traces of sleep threatening to take hold of her, and refocused on her article.

-

six weeks. 

it had been six weeks and, even though karen knew it was pathetic and ridiculous, she was starting to worry.

the last time frank disappeared like this, she thought he might be dead, killed in that fire. it had been a slow, sickening feeling spreading through her gut that ended in her puking into the river. now it felt like a building storm, the blue sky of her mind filling from horizon to horizon with the darkest of clouds. this feeling, it haunted her, even when she wasn't actively thinking about it.

one night, she thought she heard the sound of boots on the fire escape outside of her living room window. knowing it couldn't be anyone else, she went to check, but it was only a stray cat who'd accidentally knocked something over. a few days after that, there was a string of murders along 13th street that she wanted to believe was him, but the killer was caught a week or so after.

ever since then, karen had thrown herself further into her work. she was chasing leads for her articles left and right, filling a bulletin board she had at home with notes and pictures of places and suspects so one article wouldn't accidentally criss-cross into another. she'd started putting in so many more hours that ellison confronted her about it.

“you're the best reporter the bulletin has got," he'd said with a look of disappointment thrown her way, "but pretty soon you're gonna burn yourself out, karen. go home, get some rest. you can come back tomorrow."

"but sir, i'm almost done with—" she started to protest, but he cut her off.

"go home. that's an order, miss page."

with a resigned sigh, she obeyed, but not before she put all her necessary files on a flash drive and took it home with her. she'd stayed up until the early hours of the morning to finish polishing the article.

when she turned it in that day, he thanked her, but not before giving her another lecture and sending her home for the day with the promise that she wouldn't even think about anything relating to her job.

she was so exhausted, she collapsed on the couch and passed out before her second heel was off.

- 

three months.

three months had passed, and he was standing in the door of her apartment like he had so many times before, hands up cautiously as she raised a .380 handgun right at him. it was reminiscent of a time when he had been bruised and battered, standing in the same place.

_"it wasn't me," he'd said to her, "it wasn't me."_

then he'd lunged forward and threw them both to the floor, protecting her as his arms wrapped around her and his body shielded her from the bullets shooting through the wall.

when karen realized who it really was in the doorway, her posture sagged and the tense moment was over. it gave way to a softer, painful atmosphere.

frank let his hands drop to his sides but didn't make any further movement. all he did was look at her as she put a hand over her mouth and the other over her torso, because she truly couldn't believe he was here. 

he was in front of her, as alive as ever, and it hurt like _hell_. she felt vulnerable for the first time in a long while, truly vulnerable, because she held out her heart for him to have and he walked out of her life again. she would've laid down anything for him, that day, if he had asked her to. she was ready, after everything, and she mistakenly thought he was, too.

tears had sprung into her ocean eyes and she wiped them away, a smear of mascara on her left cheek. she lifted her hand from her mouth, folded her arms together.

”wha-what are you doing here, frank?" she stuttered. she wanted to take his hand and guide him to her couch so they could tangle themselves in each other for a night. it was the most she'd ever get out of him, if that. in the most embarrassing but pure way, she wanted him. not frank castle, not the punisher, but him. except that she knew it was foolish of her to want a man who was beyond loving, so she did nothing.

"may i come in, ma'am?" he asked with a croak in his deep voice. he waited for an answer, to which she nodded. the man took a few steps forward and shut the door behind him, standing there almost awkwardly once he did. he'd never been one for awkwardness, never found much reason for it, except for with her. it was an odd sight, to see frank castle fidgeting nervously in front of her. 

"make yourself at home, i guess," karen gestured to the couch, going into the kitchen to look through the refrigerator to distract herself from the heart that still pounded in her ears. "do you want a beer or.. something?”

”sure." she popped open three bottles of keystone beer, one which she chugged and the other two for the both of them.

it was hard to look at him, partly because she knew she'd give him that stupid, longing look of hers and also because he was so clean. there didn't seem to be a single bruise or laceration, and it raised the question. where'd he been all this time, if not prancing around as the punisher as she'd convinced herself he was? 

karen sat on the black, faux-leather one-seater aside from the matching couch he was leaning against. when she sat down, he moved forward to hunch over his legs, hands clasped together with his elbows resting on his knees. he looked at her as she gave him his beer, but she avoided his eyes.

“karen," he said, though it was more of a question. when she didn't respond, he said it again with a little more force. " _karen_." 

"yes, frank?" she was usually so vocal, but now she felt rendered silent, as if the weight of his absence had truly affected her. even so, she didn't want to admit it, didn't want to admit she cared so much about a man who'd only abandon her again.

”look at me."

and so she did, because what else was there to do? she'd already lost him. when she looked up at him, his expression was desperate, hopeful. the soft look in his brown eyes had her melting in seconds under his gaze. she had seen him this vulnerable, once. long ago, in a hotel elevator when the police were after him and they had just seen a vet blow himself up.

frank looked at her as if she was the one who had been gone for so long and had suddenly shown back up again. like he'd been missing her even more than she'd missed him.

"i've–" he cut himself off, eyes darting between hers, "i've been thinking, you know? for once, i don't have a war to fight with anyone but myself. after maria, after the kids..."

he trailed off, shaking his head. lowering it, he looked to the floor, at his dirtied boots. "i don't know who i am when i'm not the punisher, you know? for so long, it's all i've known. blood. violence. fear. pain, that's all i've known. everyone involved in the murder of my family and kandahar, they're all dead. i ended that shit, i got my revenge, that's what fueled me. now it's this big... emptiness. i can live with pain, karen. i don't know how to live with emptiness."

 _"i look at you and all i can see is this endless, echoing.. loneliness."_  

_”i'm not lonely, karen."_

_"bullshit," she hissed, "we are all lonely. i sometimes think that is all life is, we're just fighting not to be alone."_

her heart stung, for him. he lived in his loneliness, and she wanted so bad to pull him out but it was not her choice. it was his, to decide if he wanted something more than what he'd allowed himself. she would give him that, if nothing else.

karen moved from the one-seater to the couch he sat upon, taking a seat beside him. she reached over, a comforting hand placed on his shoulder. she squeezed, a reminder that she was there, that she wasn't going anywhere. they were always good at communicating with looks and emotions and gestures. he understood. leaned into her, even.

deciding against herself, she told him in the gentlest voice, "you don't have to deal with the emptiness alone, frank. you know you don't."

he chuckled humorlessly, because he knew he was dealing with it like this on purpose. he carried his burden alone because he couldn't bear the thought of sharing it with her. she deserved better. 

"i know," he whispered, more to himself than to her.

shifting in his seat, he allowed her to curl into him, propping her feet up behind her on the couch and wrapping her arms around his torso. he ran his fingers through the ends of her hair, relaxing her.

he closed his eyes and, against his better judgement, nudged her. "karen?" 

"hm?" she hummed, his skin vibrating with the sound. 

"i'm sorry. for leaving." the blonde seemed to still, lowering her voice as she asked, "where did you go, frank?"

"went out of the city for a while. red... he got into my head, told me i'd better skip town, that you'd be safer without me here. so i left, stayed in a motel a town or two away. it gave me time to think, i guess." 

she huffed, and he could picture the eye roll that came with it. "matt wouldn't know the first thing about what's good for me and what's not."

they lapsed into silence. the minutes ticked by, the clock inching closer to midnight with every breath they took. he thought of the woman in his arms, how he never quite knew what she wanted or how she saw him. this would be easier, less terrifying, if he did. 

 _"you're dead to me."_  

_"i actually care about what happens to you. that makes exactly one of us."_

what he _did_ know was that what he felt for her was deeper, more complex, than just love. it started out as understanding between them, because karen never thought of him as just the punisher, just a heartless killer. she always saw through that, even when everybody else was against her. she believed in him, over and over and over, that he could be good. he more than loved karen page, she was his person.

he just hoped she felt similar. 

 _"i will come for you."_  

_"sarah's my wife, sarah's my family."_

_"i'm only gonna say this once, okay, so is karen. so is karen."_

"the last time we spoke," he croaked, "i told you i was terrified. and i am. i'm... i'm terrified i've lost you." 

the way he stumbled over his words nervously made her heart ache, and she clung to him all the tighter. 

with a somehow strong, stable voice, she said, "you'll never lose me frank, ever. i'm here and—and i'm yours, if you want me." 

_endless, echoing loneliness_

frank shut his eyes, gently squeezing karen before releasing her. his hands slid to her shoulders, pushing her back just enough so he could make out her face in nothing but the lamplight, as she'd turned off the hallway light before sitting down. she knew without a doubt there was longing in her gaze, but more than that. and he understood. 

he swallowed, unable to tear himself away from the blue eyes that captivated him from the moment she stepped into his hospital room and shoved a picture of his dead family in his face. his eyes filled with tears and his heart throbbed, but not with grief, no. more than that.

she understood.

”you're important to me, karen," he whispered brokenly, preparing himself for his next words. "and i lied to you."

"no," she shook her head in denial, "you've never lied to me, you know that."

he shut his eyes. he didn't want to deal with this–this breach of trust, but also this line he was about to cross. he couldn't look at her looking at him because he was so damned _scared_ for once in his life.

"i've been lying to you this whole goddamned time."

"frank," she said, a little desperate, "open your eyes."

suddenly, her hands were on his face and he felt as if he could no longer breathe and she was the one who had taken it from him. he felt like he was both floating and grounded all at once because she was his rock, but at the same time she was his heart. when he opened his eyes, the world was spinning, but all he could focus on was her.

"you're part of me, karen," his voice was almost silent, lost to everything in the outside world but her. he reached for her hand, intertwined her fingers with his, brought it down and laid it upon his beating heart. "you are my heart. you are my home, and i want you to know that. david once told me i have nothing but a war inside of me and he was right but with you—you make me feel at peace. i thought... damnit, i thought i would never be able to love again after maria but karen, i am _in love with you._ "

it was then that she tucked her head into the crook of his neck, hand splayed over his heart while the other still rested on his cheek, and let out a sob. 

he had never seen karen page cry, but hearing it made his heart shatter. he clutched her tighter, wanting to be the one who carried her back to shore when she got lost in the tidal waves.

”hey, hey," he cooed softly, "don't cry, okay? shhh."

she let out another weak sob before clutching his shirt and lifting her head from his neck. her eyes were a glossy red, the skin around it splotchy and wet from tears. she was a mess, but she was so _beautiful_.

karen's forehead bumped gently against his, their quiet breaths mixing in the closeness. she leaned forward to kiss him, but not before saying "you are my heart, too, frank castle," because _i love you's_ seemed too cliché for the two of them.


End file.
